Elizabeth Eulberg: Take a Bow

Although, I just got a girlfriend and what do I do? I audition for a school in New York City, which means I’ll have to live at my parents’ Park Avenue apartment during the week.

Leave it to me to complicate one of the few good things in my life.

I almost considered backing out of the audition and not going to CPA, but — and I’m fully aware of how corny this sounds — music is my life.

At first I didn’t know that it was unusual for someone to hear a song and be able to play it back instantly on the piano or guitar. Or that not everybody can sit down and write a song. I’ve been playing music, my music, for as long as I can remember. It flows from me with ease.

It’s just the lyrics that I suck at.

I’m a thirteen-year-old kid who lives in a huge house in Connecticut with my investment banker father and stay-at-home mom. What do I have to write about? I don’t know anything about suffering or pain. Or love.

I guess the one good thing going for me is that I don’t have to sing today. I’m doing a couple of instrumental pieces. I hate singing. I hate it when people look at me. I wonder if they’ll let me perform behind a screen?

I try to get my legs to stop shaking, but if they stay still, what will distract me from the bile that is slowly rising in my throat? I go to bite my nails, but there isn’t any nail left.

Dad squeezes my shoulder. I hate him knowing that I’m nervous. Why can’t I just tune out the voices in my head telling me I’m going to mess it up, like I mess everything up? Why can’t I be normal? Why can’t I do something without thinking of the fourteen thousand ways that I can mess up?

Actually, there is one thing I can do to quiet the voices. The only thing that I am good at, which is playing music. That I can do well.

It’s everything else that’s the problem.

I thought things would be easier the second time around.

But nothing seems to be going according to Sophie’s Plan. And it’s all my fault.

I don’t think there was ever a doubt that Sophie would get into the vocal music program. How could she not? She’s amazing. She got her acceptance letter right away … on the same day that I got my letter telling me that the admissions department was undecided on my application and I had to audition again.

While the CPA letter explained that the reasoning was that they had an “overwhelming” number of applicants for the music composition program’s inaugural year, I knew the truth: I wasn’t good enough.

I try to hold back the tears that are creeping up. What would the admissions team think if I walked onto the stage in tears? Probably not the best idea.

But I’ve wanted to go to CPA since I was little. I’ve wanted this for so long.

And I don’t want to disappoint Sophie.

Going to CPA together has been our goal since we first met, when we were eight and both performing at a youth talent show in Prospect Park. I played an original song I wrote on the piano. Sophie sang “Over the Rainbow.” But Sophie doesn’t just sing, she Sings with a capital S . She opens her mouth and time stops. I haven’t met a single person who hasn’t been mesmerized by her voice and her stage presence.

She even had it back when we were eight. I’ll never forget her coming up to me afterward with her gold medal around her neck (I got the silver). She didn’t even introduce herself — she didn’t need to; everyone there knew who she was. She simply said, “Hi, I like your song. You should write one with words and I’ll sing it for you.” We’ve been a team ever since.

It’s Sophie who’s been my biggest cheerleader from the very beginning. She was the one who planted the seed years ago about going to CPA. We’d be an unstoppable force, a dynamic duo, the greatest singer-and-songwriter team that CPA has ever seen.

But thanks to me, our team is in serious jeopardy.

“Emme Connelly.”

My name is called and I try to steady myself as I walk onto the stage.

I try to block out all the doubting thoughts in my head.

I can do it.

I can do it.

I can do it.

This isn’t just about me. It’s about Sophie.

And if I’m not sure I can do it for me, I know I can do it for her.

I never in a million years thought I’d be sitting here. Well, truth be told, I think that every time I’m in CPA’s auditorium. Freshman year, sitting with Sophie by my side, I couldn’t believe I’d made it in. Then sophomore year, I was shocked that I’d survived the first year. Junior year was the biggest surprise since I’d almost wanted to sabotage my audition for that semester because I was so tired — tired of the auditions we have to do to be accepted each semester , tired of the extra classes and studios, tired of the concerts, the pressure, the competition. The constant competition.

Fortunately for me, the music composition department is the least competitive of all the programs. Ethan, Ben, Jack, and I work together on pretty much every project, and have since the very first day of school.

But other groups don’t have it so easy. Jack’s girlfriend, Chloe, is in the dance department, and she has to eat her protein bars in secret during lunch. It’s a double competition, to see who can dance the best and eat the least. It’s as if being the skinniest person in the group is a badge of honor, not an eating disorder.

The drama department is full of … well, drama. I stay far away from anybody in that department when a show is being cast. It’s not pretty. Leading up to the auditions, there is back-stabbing and sabotage of Hamlet proportions, and when the cast list is posted, those without parts are les misérables .

And then there’s Sophie. As we wait for our first assembly of senior year to begin, I look four rows in front of me to where Sophie is sitting with Carter. Sophie’s had it a lot rougher than me and I feel so guilty. After all, if it wasn’t for Sophie, I wouldn’t even be here.

Ethan taps my knee and motions up front. Dr. Pafford, our principal, strides onto the stage.

“Hello, seniors.” He leans on the podium and takes stock of the room. Judging. We are always being judged. “Over ten thousand people applied your freshman year, 624 got in, and today there are only 513 left. Of that you should be proud.”

He pauses dramatically. We all know he never gives us a compliment without showing us its downside.

“But now is when we really figure out who will one day appear on this screen.” He gestures to the large screen that is rolling down behind him. Our first day of freshman year, we were welcomed with images of CPA alumni: Oscar, Grammy, and Tony winners flashed before our eyes. “As you all know, you are here two weeks before the start of class to discuss the opening-day performances for the freshmen as well as, of course, the Senior Showcase.”

It’s as if the air has been sucked out of the room at the mention of the showcase. Every January, CPA hosts talent scouts, agents, and college administrators to an evening that highlights the talent at the school. It’s the biggest audition of them all. Juilliard, Alvin Ailey, William Morris — they all come.

The mere thought of it makes me sick.

Both Ethan and Ben nudge me. They know me so well.